Feön Vara
by vitnai
Summary: My take on what happens after the end of Inheritance. Because we all know that Christopher Paolini is a sadistic man to leave things as he did.
1. Chapter 1

Tears streamed down Eragon's face as he watched the great green dragon begin to disappear behind the bend as the boat drifted onwards, bringing him farther away from everything he held dear. Without realizing it, a keening cry, filled with all the sadness, desolation, and longing left his lips, stretching across the space that separated him from Arya and Roran. The cry put to sound all the feeling he could not convey. As it continued to fill the space around him and onwards, Saphira's own mourning keen joined and mingled with his, creating an almost beautiful and haunting melody. The cry dwindled off as Eragon felt the bleak numbness and exhaustion take place over himself. He prepared himself for an eternity of lethargic emptiness as he wiped away the tears still leaking from his eyes.

―

Arya felt her heart wrenching as the cries reached her ears. She placed her hand on Fírnen's thigh as he pulled himself forward as if to throw himself off the banks to pursue the receding ship.

Even as she did so, she felt and suppressed her own need to leap upon her dragon and follow after. The pain she heard in that cry was too resonating. Too _real._ She felt a cry of her own pushing its way up through her throat, but she bit it back, knowing it would only hurt Eragon more if he heard it. Finally, she understood how he had felt about her all this time and she mourned the lost time that could have been spent with him that she had denied him as well as herself.

For a wild moment, she considered calling out his true name, the one that held so much care for her, and ordering him back to her to stay by her side forever. She knew he would do it and not hate her for it. His true name proved as much. _But_, she reasoned, _I would hate myself for him._

She turned away, unable to take the sight of the now almost invisible ship. Her gaze fell to Roran, tears flowing proudly down his cheeks as he mourned the loss of his brother. In doing so though, she recognized in him all at once the similarities he shared with Eragon that she had never before noticed. The strong nose and jaw, the thick eyebrows, and the slightly upturned mouth. She couldn't bear to look at him any longer.

"He loved you, you know." She heard the strangled pronouncement come from Roran and she turned back to him to see his almost accusatory gaze upon her. She lowered her eyes.

"We spoke of it in Helgrind," he smiled slightly as if it were a particularly amusing memory. "He was most reluctant. Though Saphira did confess that if he fancied you any more she'd be trying to kiss you herself."

Arya shifted uncomfortably, but Roran continued, "While you may not have felt the same, never forget that he was a good man. _Is _a good man. More so that I or anybody else with ever be. He's sacrificed all that he is for the greater good of Alagaësia. But even with all of that, I can't help but feel sometimes that he'd give it all up for you. I'd fear for the life of anyone who hurt you, even myself and Katrina included. I just want you to know what kind of man it is who loves you. Hold your head high and be proud. Requited or not, my brother's love is no trifle."

With this being said, Roran turned and began fidgeting with the straps on his pack, clearly uncomfortable with his speech.

Arya felt another wave of sadness wash over her as she again realized the extent of Eragon's love and how thoroughly she must have damaged him. With a sudden and terrible feeling, she realized that she had never truly told him that she felt the same. She would never again see him and he still believed that she looked upon his affections with something akin to disdain. She spun around to try to catch sight of the ship so she could chase it down and remedy her grievous oversight, but saw nothing but calm and peaceful waters. Her frantically searching eyes finally resigned themselves to the futility of their task and the wail that she had held back before finally escaped her lungs, echoing through the desolate landscape.


	2. Chapter 2

Only two weeks after departing from Hedarth, what felt like an eternity to Eragon, they arrived at what was to become the home of the dragons. He roused himself from his trance like daze and set to work. With the help of the Eldunarí, he selected the place that would be used as an incubation site for the eggs until they were ready to hatch. Already several had begun the process. After preparing the eggs for what was to come, Eragon and the elves set about creating a society in which the riders to come and their friends could live, a task which would be simple enough to complete with the strength of Eragon, Saphira, the elves, and the hundreds of Eldunarí.

In under a week, the first dragons had hatched and were progressing quickly under the watchful tutelage of Saphira and the wisest of the Eldunarí, all the while reducing many of the elves to playthings, much to their chagrin. The city had begun to take a definite shape with the skeletons of several magnificent buildings built to the scale of the Riders filling a large valley that would serve as the location for the center of the city. With a grim sense of foreboding, Eragon finally conceded that the time to contact the leaders of the races of Alagaësia. He prepared to scry Nasuada, Orik, and Nar Garzhvog to give them his news. He had decided to write a letter to Arya, feeling unable to face her again so soon after their parting.

After his meetings with the three leaders, all of whom expressed their happiness and excitement at the news and Nasuada and Orik who had both cried tears of joy intermingled with sadness upon seeing Eragon again, Eragon sat down in his newly built study to begin the arduous and heart wrenching task of writing to the Queen of the Elves. When finished, many hours later, he attached the letter to a ship he wove from grass and spoke the Word, placing upon the ship the enchantments that would ensure its safe arrival in Arya's hands. And then, with his taskes having been completed, he began forever.

―

Arya was sitting under the Menoa tree at the place where Eragon had confessed his love for to her during the Agaetí Blödhren when the ship reached her.

As the vessel alighted in her palm, she pulled the letter from its mast with trembling fingers and began to read:

_**Arya Dröttning,**_

_**I wish to inform you that we have reached the place in which we will rebuild the race of dragons and the Order of Riders. The island is, as of yet, unnamed. The first dragons have begun to explore this new place and more will soon follow. Hope lives on.**_

_**I must apologize for not speaking in person as I did with Nasuada, Orik, and Nar Garzhvog. I wish I could explain my actions to you adequately, but I simply cannot word this while writing nor while looking through a mirror. In this I fear that I will never be able to speak with you the way I once would have. All that I can say is that I still can't quite believe that, after all that, it has come to this. But what can I expect? I fulfilled my purpose; I was the utensil by which the mad king was killed. Few want a kingkiller around, my half-brother can attest to that much.**_

_**As it is, I can only describe to you the world in which the Order will begin anew. I hope that my words bring you some happiness. I hope that one day you will see it for yourself, though fortune does not seem to favor me in such. **_

The letter went on for several more pages in which he described the island on which they now resided, the hatchling dragons, and the progress of the formally enslaved Eldunarí. Though the letter detailed many joyous things, a sense of grief permeated ever page. It finally ended with "_**Sé ono waíse ilia, Eragon"**_.

May you be happy, Eragon.

Arya felt tears well in her eyes but she quickly composed herself. _I will __**not**__ become one of those weak, sniveling human women,_ she resolved, _I will do something about it._

With that in mind, she strode forth towards her room in Tilardí Hall where she kept the mirror that allowed her contact to Eragon and his companions.

―

"It is a pleasure to hear from you, my Queen," the sleek elf purred. "All is well, I presume?"

"All is well in Ellesméra, Blödhgarm-elda. I am more concerned with the happenings where you reside. The eggs are beginning to hatch, I've heard?"

Blödhgarm watched her with a twinkle of amusement in his yellow eyes. "Indeed they have, Dröttning. But, forgive my presumption, that's not what you want to ask about, if I am not mistaken."

Arya frowned; slightly disappointed that she couldn't obtain her information in a more subtle way. "No, I suppose it is not. Tell me, Blödhgarm, how fares Eragon? In the letter I received from him he seemed out of sorts."

The furred elf sighed and his mane seemed to deflate as if in defeat. "He does not fare well, my Lady. Not at all. Though it's nothing that manifests outwardly, I worry about him. It's as if he's empty. I've never before seen anything like it. He has shut down almost entirely. If it weren't for Brightscales, I worry that we would lose him. He no longer sleeps, only works. Ceaselessly. He has built almost this entire city by himself while spending countless hours with the hatchlings as well. It's as if he fears being idle. If it were anyone else, I would not worry as greatly as it is not negative to the task, but I care for Shadeslayer as if he were my kin. I do not like to see him hurt like he does. But there is nothing I can say to fix this. If only the witch-child had joined us, she would know the words. Or if you or his family had joined us."

Arya's eyes narrowed minutely, hearing the challenge in his words. It seemed Eragon was not the only one who had hoped she would accompany them. Despite her anger at being thusly accused, Arya couldn't help but agree with Blödhgarm. By the elf's description and what she had gleaned from the letter, she expected that the only way Eragon would ever again be happy would be if she or Roran and his family joined him on the island. But Roran would not leave Palancar Valley and she was duty bound to her people. The fates played a cruel game with her and even more so with Eragon.

Blödhgarm's slight cough brought her back from her thoughts. "My apologies, Arya, but I must be going. There is much I must do. This new Order will not build itself and its leader needs our help. Many felicitations with your deliberations to come." Arya almost smiled at his slyness. As if it were an afterthought he added, "You should talk to him, you know." And with that, his image faded from the mirror.

Arya stared at her reflection for a long minute after. _I should talk to him… _she thought to herself sullenly. But, try as she might, she could not force herself to utter the words that would bring his face before her as she could not bear to see the pain still so fresh in his eyes. The pain that she had caused. _In time, once he has healed, perhaps. _But even as she thought these words, she knew in some part of her that it was a lie. The years passed slowly from that point on.


End file.
